


Raspberry and Chocolate

by MovesLikeBucky



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale attempts baking, M/M, fic of a fic, soft times in the kitchen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/pseuds/MovesLikeBucky
Summary: He reaches across the bed, hand searching for his angel.  Searching for his other half.  He finds only an empty expanse of sheets and pillows.  He screws one eye open, adjusting to the light.  Must be well into the afternoon now.  Aziraphale would be up and puttering around as he always is.In the ether, Crowley stretches his wings.  He can pinpoint exactly where Aziraphale’s feather sits, nestled amongst his own.  An ever-present grounding force.  Always with him, forever and to the end of time.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 85





	Raspberry and Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lurlur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hurry Back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333168) by [Lurlur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/Lurlur). 



> For my wonderful dear friend Lur! A fic of her fic Hurry Back for her birthday! I love you Lurbear <3 I hope you like it!

The smell of chocolate pulls Crowley out of his slumber. He’s wrapped in soft cotton sheets and a tartan quilt, so much warmer than he had been for the past two years. He was still getting used to it, to being back. It had been several weeks since they had cried into each other’s wings at Jasmine cottage, coming back together as they always should have been. Sometimes it still feels unreal.

He reaches across the bed, hand searching for his angel. Searching for his other half. He finds only an empty expanse of sheets and pillows. He screws one eye open, adjusting to the light. Must be well into the afternoon now. Aziraphale would be up and puttering around as he always is. 

In the ether, Crowley stretches his wings. He can pinpoint exactly where Aziraphale’s feather sits, nestled amongst his own. An ever-present grounding force. Always with him, forever and to the end of time.

Crowley yawns and stretches, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, sinking his feet into his slippers (black, of course; nothing like Aziraphale’s tartan monstrosities). He runs a hand through his hair, attempting to muss it in a way that makes sense rather than a way that looks like bedhead, before going off in search of Aziraphale.

He can hear the clang of pots and pans, smell the deep earthiness of dark chocolate. There’s a tangy scent hanging in the air, too. Raspberry maybe? Confusing either way.

Crowley shuffles his way into the kitchen, his brain still groggy and sleep-addled, following the sound of his angel’s voice as he sputters and mutters curses under his breath.

“Alright then, angel?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen island.

“Oh, good morning, my love,” Aziraphale says, turning to face him, flashing a smile that lights up Crowley’s entire world as it always has. He can have this again. He can be here with Aziraphale again. “Everything is quite alright, I can assure you. I did think you would be asleep for a while longer.”

“It’s gotta be past noon, angel,” Crowley says, a little confused.

“Well, I suppose then, I mean it..it isn’t  _ quite _ finished, but I wanted to surprise you.” Aziraphale steps to the side and Crowley sees a cake. Chocolate layered with raspberry jam, pretty white icing piled on top. It’s a bit lopsided, and he’s sure without a miracle holding it together the top two layers would be sliding off completely.

Aziraphale is blushing, fiddling with his ring. “I wanted to do something to mark the occasion, it’s been a month today since you came back to me.”

Crowley’s heart is full to bursting, overwhelmed with the love that surrounds him, pulsing through his being from that one pinprick spot in his wings. The love surrounding him in their home ( _ their home _ , it’s theirs, together, from now on). He walks around the island and takes Aziraphale’s fidgety hands in his.

“I’m not sure why I thought to bake a cake,” Aziraphale laughs nervously, “you don’t really eat much but it seemed like the thing to do and...oh, I just felt like I needed to do something-”

Crowley lifts one of Aziraphale’s hands to his mouth and places a kiss to his palm, his eyes locked with the angel’s. “It’s perfect,” he says, softly and reverently, “if you made it, how could it not be?”

“I’m afraid you give me too much credit, my darling,” Aziraphale says. Crowley watches his shoulders relax and sees his face soften. They’re still working through this. This pain and these fears. But every day it gets just a little bit easier.

“I give you as much credit as you deserve, angel,” Crowley says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the angel’s lips, “but you didn’t need to do anything. All I ever need is to wake up every day, in this cottage, with you here with me.”

Crowley kisses him again. He feels Aziraphale wrap his arms around him; hand stroking up his back where the juncture of his wings would be.

_ This is everything, _ Crowley thinks,  _ this is everything in the world that I could ever want. _

“I love you, Aziraphale,” he whispers against the angel’s lips before kissing him again, hand sneaking behind him towards the cake.

Aziraphale laughs, “And I you, my dearest.” The angel leans in for another kiss but before he can, Crowley swipes a dollop of icing onto his nose and laughs.

The kitchen soon dissolves into fits of laughter as Aziraphale retaliates by poking Crowley repeatedly in the spot just below his ribs that he knows is sensitive. They laugh in each other’s arms, wrapped up together in this little kitchen, in their little cottage.

After the laughter subsides, they migrate to the small dining table and eat raspberry-chocolate cake, held together with a miracle to keep from toppling. Later they will relax on the couch, Aziraphale will card a hand through Crowley’s hair as he reads, Crowley will play games on his phone. And in the morning, they will wake up together, wrapped up in soft cotton sheets, under a tartan blanket. 

And Crowley will be warmer than he has been in the last two years, cocooned in soft sheets and the love of his angel.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come and scream with me on [Tumblr](https://moveslikebucky.tumblr.com)!


End file.
